


A Predictable Dare

by Thesis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Truth or Dare, a little bit of heart break, some onesided Lance/Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 15:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11762457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesis/pseuds/Thesis
Summary: Keith has a crush, and Lance is determined to find out who it is. He gets it wrong. Repeatedly.





	A Predictable Dare

Keith has a crush.  
  
Now, Lance would love to say that he figured this out with his master investigative skills. That he had caught some wistful sighs, witnessed some forlorn, longing stares. Maybe even saw Keith stammer or blush or better yet, fail horribly at flirting. (He does not, after all, have Lance's amazing people-skills. Probably because it turns out that he isn't a people. Not completely.)  
  
Unfortunately, none of these amusing antics are how Lance learns.  
  
Keith just admits it himself, openly, in a room full of teammates.  
  
It happens during a rousing round of _Truth or Dare or Be the_ _Embarrassed_ _Quitter Who Gets Stuck Cleaning the Cryopods._ _  
  
_ Pidge and Hunk are a devastating duo in these stupid games they play to pass the time. Lance suspects this is because, despite keeping a new diary encrypted on her computer, Pidge still writes in her old one, and Hunk still reads it. It has basically become an unofficial exchange diary between the two, and gives them an unfair advantage.  
  
That, and they both love seeing Lance suffer. Hunk hides it well but Lance knows the truth.

At any rate, they are c _ompletely_ unfair.  
  
So in between their horrible destruction of Lance's character, the two of them ask each other cutesy questions, like “what do you want for your birthday,” and give inane dares like, “I dare you to start each word of your sentences with the same letter for five minutes.”  
  
Which, actually, Pidge is alarmingly good at. She chirps, “Assigned alliteration accepted!” Then pauses in thought, and has to speak a bit slower. Lance can't blame her. "Um... A... Alphabetic assignment... Absolute always after anew articulation? Uh... Allowed alternate at...” She gestures vaguely in the air.  
  
Somehow Hunk, (who wants a new toolbox for his birthday after denting his old one quite badly,) understands what she's asking. “Oh, nah, you can use a different letter each sentence.”  
  
Keith looks impressed with both sides of the exchange, and Lance lets it slide when Pidge mumbles, “oh, thank God.”  
  
Then it is her turn again, and Lance is somewhat less impressed that she blurts out, “Hunk,” without thinking.  
  
Hunk chooses truth. He gets a moment to enjoy his work, watching her flounder as she realizes that his name was not a complete sentence, and that she is stuck with the letter H. “Have... Uhh... Heart? H-hunt? No. Hunk's heart... Held?” She buries her head in her hands, just letting out a continuous “hhh,” of frustration, until Hunk finally answers.  
  
“Um,” he says, looking a bit red in the cheeks, “I – yeah. Yes.”  
  
“What,” Keith asks, still obviously unclear on the question. He goes ignored.  
  
“Shay,” Pidge sing-songs. “She seems sweet.”  
  
“It's not–“ Hunk tries to deny, as always.  
  
Lance interrupts, “–does that count? With the s and sh?”  
  
“Seems sufficient,” Hunk answers, looking resigned. Pidge rolls her eyes. Then Hunk says, “you know, if that's the sort of thing you wanted to know, it would have been way easier to ask the others.”  
  
“Think that's true?” Pidge asks.  
  
Hunk shrugs. “You could have gone with Lance, love. That's easy. Or even Keith, crush.”  
  
Lance is the one to point out, “you said to use the same letter, not sound. Keith and crush is out.”  
  
Pidge looks indignant over something she cannot figure out how to say through her dare. “Would've... Uh... Oh! Wasted wording. Would've wondered _who.”_ Then she breaks her dare completely, with unfairly little punishment, to add, “I mean I should have just asked, like, 'heart's holder' or something, I guess.” _  
_  
Gears turn in Lance's head. He agrees with her - obviously, having Hunk admit that he has a crush on Shay in his own words would have been more interesting than just knowing he has a crush and having to _infer_ based on the obvious evidence.  
  
These stupid truth or dare sessions are usually a very relaxing team building exercise. Enough for Shiro to let them play without rushing them off to the next task or chore.  
  
And Hunk is always the best, because nothing ever bothers him. Water off a duck's back. But - Hunk looks put-out by all this focus on his love life, and he and Pidge are having a silent conversation so unsettling that Lance rushes to interrupt and distract them. “Hey, but no need to even _ask_ me, buddy! Lance loves ladies. All of them.”  
  
It works well enough. Lance praises himself – he's always been good at getting attention. Even if it's not always positive.  
  
Pidge stage-whispers to Keith beside her, “lonely Lance lacks love.”  
  
“Nice.”  
  
Lance squawks indignantly. He can take Pidge's ribbing, but it's unacceptable for Keith to join in. “Wha—no! Lame! _Not_ nice! Pidge, you're rude! You—you— _little lady_!”  
  
“Is that an insult?” Hunk asks.  
  
“Loser,” Pidge says. Then, unprompted, “romance is weird. I don't get it.”  
  
Lance groans and falls backwards onto the training room floor, staring up at the ceiling. He hears Hunk's voice drift over him, “and, uh. What about you?”  
  
Keith makes a small, curious sound, apparently the target of the question.  
  
Hunk again: “do you like anyone?”  
  
“Keith hates everyone,” Lance says, at the same time as Keith answers, “I do.”  
  
Lance launches himself upright again to properly gape, and sees Pidge doing the same. Keith looks more annoyed at their reactions than he does at having admitted it.  
  
Lance's mind races. _Who? Since whe_ _n?_ Keith hates _everyone_!  
  
And, look, despite how much Lance picks on him, he also knows Keith is generally accepted as being good-looking. He's not Lance's type, but with some work, who knows? He could use a better skin-care regimen than _too-hot showers too-rarely_ , and maybe a hair cut. And also maybe an attitude overhaul. And some new clothes wouldn't hurt. But... Well, the foundation is there. Probably why there had been so many whispers around him at the garrison.  
  
Only - Keith had never looked at anyone at the garrison. Pretty girls, pretty boys. He's never flirted or gotten distracted on their missions, either. He barely manages _friendly,_ let alone flirty.  
  
Lance doesn't get the chance to demand answers, or more importantly, to torture Keith with them.  
  
Shiro comes to find them, whisking everyone off on their own simple chores.  
  
Keith looks at Shiro like he's a hero come to rescue him.  
  
And, it occurs to Lance, he _always_ does.  
  


***

  
Lance starts watching Keith. He just wants to _know_. It's eating away at him.  
  
He just needs some hard evidence. He can totally see it. When he thinks about it, it almost seems obvious. But not obvious _enough_. He wants confirmation. Sure, Keith worships Shiro, listens to him and no one else, calms down for him, obeys him, protects him – et cetera. Sure, sure, sure.  
  
The thing is that Lance does to. It's jarring to see it in Keith, amplified, but he recognizes too much of it in himself to see it as an _inherent_ sign of love. He needs more. He needs something concrete.  
  
“Why are you stalking Keith?” Hunk asks him, the first to notice. He holds out a juice pack for Lance, as if between Lance's sitting and watching, and Shiro and Keith's wrestling across the training room floor, Lance is the thirsty one.  
  
“I'm not,” Lance says. Then, “because he's got a crush.”  
  
Hunk takes a seat beside him on the floor. Lance glances over, watches Hunk's eyes drift from meeting his to watching the two on the mats as they struggle against each other. “Not following.”  
  
Shiro has Keith pinned. His knee pushes into the younger boy's spine, and his hand shoves his face down. It looks painful, and Keith coughs, his spit hitting the mat openly. He is too caught up in their fight to have any sort of shame. At that, at the position, at the way his pants have been nudged a bit low on his waist. Not that Lance cares much for those details, of course.  
  
Keith squirms, making a slight movement to one side, then a strong jerk to the opposite. He manages to throw Shiro off of himself, enough to scramble away, just to get distance between them and reorient himself. His breathing his heavy, chest heaving dramatically. His hair sticks to his flushed cheeks with sweat.  
  
Lance swallows thickly, and his eyes dart to Hunk just to make sure he isn't being watched. Hunk's gaze is straight ahead, watching the two with a furrowed brow and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.  
  
Poor Hunk, Lance thinks. He really doesn't like violence.  
  
“I just want to know who he likes,” Lance insists.  
  
Hunk is still chewing his lip. “I'm curious too, but it's really his business.”  
  
“It's totally Shiro,” Lance says.  
  
And Hunk – tenses for a moment. There is this slight twitch of his shoulders, then he is laughing. “If you already know, then why are you doing your recon mission? Trying to play wingman?”  
  
“Maybe,” Lance concedes, only because it sounds better than just being curious. And hey, he muses, that wouldn't be too bad. Maybe he and Keith could bond. Maybe Keith will someday say, “Lance, my buddy, my dear friend who I cannot live without, thank you so much for hooking me up with my long-time crush, Shiro.”  
  
Romance seems like as good a source for an attitude adjustment as any. Then again, the idea of helping Keith hook up with Shiro sounds impossible.  
  
On the training floor, Keith throws out a punch, but seems to have planned for Shiro's dodge and whirls around with a kick to follow it up. It lands, knocks Shiro's balance off, but even as he falls he grabs at Keith's ankle, bringing him down.  
  
Hunk looks uncomfortable. “I don't think you should mess with anyone's love-life, dude.”  
  
Lance just hums, because he knows he will hear the reasoning whether he asks or not. Hunk is no fun, like that. Lance expects some speech about being respectful, or keeping his nose out of other people's lives to be polite. Letting them figure it out themselves. Maybe something nuanced and kind about how terrible at socializing Keith is, one of those things he says that would deserve a slap from anyone else's mouth.  
  
The same shit Lance knows but can never put into words, and the shit that he likes to pretend he doesn't understand to begin with. That's the sort of thing Hunk always says.  
  
Instead he gets, carefully, “it's a pretty bad idea for _any_ of us to hook up, you know?”  
  
Lance blinks. “How do you mean?”  
  
“Well,” Hunk says, and only briefly looks to meet Lance's eyes before he's back to watching the pair sparring in front of them. “If it were home, like at the garrison, then whatever. But there's only like seven people on this castle, and it's probably going to be like that for a while. So the options are that it's someone off the ship, which I doubt. Or someone on the ship.”  
  
“Yeah, so he likes someone among us, who cares?”  
  
Lance is secretly relieved when Hunk does not take the easy snipe and say, _you, apparently_. He is too deep on this train of thought to joke, and hums thoughtfully. “I just think it would be really hard for a romance to not affect missions. And a potential break-up would be even worse. Or even if you think maybe it is someone away from the castle, do you think being in a long distance relationship would be good for him?”  
  
All the rest of his reasoning had been general. Like advice for all of them. That last one gives Lance pause in how specifically tailored it is to Keith. “Why not?”  
  
“We might never see the people we meet ever again,” Hunk ventures. “And from their side, too. What if we die?”  
  
“Bleak, dude.”  
  
Hunk shrugs.  
  
Lance doesn't like thinking about that. He knows it's a potential reality. He understands the gravity of this all, _really_ , he does. They're all faced with it every fight, and he knows they all see it. He's no exception, despite all the jokes.  
  
Hunk is quiet for so long that Lance thinks he is finished. He even stands up and stretches, having taken about as much as he can of watching Keith and Shiro spar. But before he leaves he says, “plus... What if they weren't the only one? Person A likes Person B, but what if Person C likes one of them?”  
  
Lance arches an eyebrow up at him, snorting. “You're worried about love triangles? On _this_ ship? You think Keith is the kind of guy who could attract not just _one_ , but _multiple_ people?”  
  
Hunk glances back down at him, laughs, and excuses himself.  
  


***

  
Lance is, unfortunately, extremely impatient. It's only days later that he corners Keith and demands, “is it Shiro? Are you in love with Shiro?”  
  
Keith's expression rapid-cycles through confusion to bewilderment to anger. He shifts away from Lance, putting space between them.  
  
“Excuse you?”  
  
Lance squints at him. He's a good judge of liars, he likes to think.  
  
Keith stares back at Lance, eyes as sharp and pretty as his knives. He looks cautious as he tries to figure out what Lance is getting at, and after long silence asks, “is this about that stupid game? And what I said?”  
  
“Yeah. You can tell me. We're bros!”  
  
One moment of staring longer, and then Keith is sighing, rolling his eyes. “You're wrong. Try again.”  
  
And Lance believes him. “So – you'll just tell me if I guess right?”  
  
Keith scowls. “Of course not. There are only so many people for you to list off like trial and error.”  
  
“But you just told me I'm wrong and to try again!”  
  
“And after _that,_ I said I'm not going to tell you.”  
  


***

  
Maybe it's one of the girls. Who knows, right?  
  
Lance thinks he's got a pretty good read on people's sexualities. Pidge is a tiny baby infant born yesterday, so she doesn't have one. Obviously. Shiro is probably straight. Alteans don't seem to really have the concept of sexuality to begin with, though they do have some vaguely offensive bloodline hierarchies that Allura did not want to discuss in detail. (Not that it mattes anymore, Lance thinks, and immediately feels guilty.) Hunk likes girls. And Lance has had Keith pegged as gay since their first class together at the Garrison, but he's willing to admit his mistakes if he turns out to be bi.  
  
He tries running all this by Pidge, to get input. She's observant, she keeps creepy files on them. She should know.  
  
Pidge glances up from her computer, but only briefly. “Tiny baby infant? Lance, I'm almost sixteen.”  
  
“Oh my God, a toddler,” Lance coos.  
  
Pidge swings her arm out to half-heartedly smack him. Then returns to typing. “I can tell you Shiro's not straight.”  
  
“What–”  
  
“–He and Matt were... Not, like, a _thing_? But he had said they were... Complicated. Before they left for Kerberos. You know? Whatever that means. But Matt was pretty sure something was going on, there. Don't know if it ever did.” Lance opens his mouth to ask for more details, because, honestly, _what_ , and _how did this never come up before,_ but the subject is sensitive, and Pidge interrupts. ”Look, I'm really not the one to come to for this junk.”  
  
Lance supposes it isn't terribly shocking for Pidge to be oblivious to romance, infancy aside. Her brain runs in binary, and love is a big ol' grey zone.

After a moment, Pidge shrugs aimlessly and admits, “you thought it was Shiro at first, but I never would have guessed something like that.”  
  
“Who would you have guessed?”  
  
“I'm telling you, I don't even _have_ a guess.”  
  
“Not yourself, right?”  
  
Pidge's expression is pure disgust for a moment. “I _highly_ doubt it. Have you seen me? Do you even _know_ how long it's been since I last showered?”  
  
“Six days,” Lance says, immediately. She stinks a bit, but mostly he can tell because he was _there_. Pidge frowns, but resumes typing.  
  
Pidge, be it her complete disinterest in romance or a lack of shame, does not much care if she is showering in a stall next to a boy, and so bathing has become one of their weirder team bonding rituals after a battle. Things have been blissfully peaceful for nearly a week.  
  
Hunk is usually in charge of reminding-Pidge-to-bathe-duty. “Where's Hunk?”  
  
There is a distracted delay before she says, not looking up and clearly mishearing his question, “sure, yeah, that's my guess.”  
  
Lance rolls his eyes. “You're not listening.”  
  
“Nope.”

She's a brat, Lance muses, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder, ignoring her screams. He can't imagine 'bratty' being Keith's type. Sure, Keith is so conflict-prone that he must like to fight, on some level. But as far as Lance can tell, Keith's not great with responsibility. Shiro might think so, but Lance can't see it.  
  
Part of what had made Shiro his first guess was the way he soothed Keith.  
  
Pidge is a genius, she truly is, and she can take care of herself. Despite jokes, she is capable, not infantile, Lance knows. But then there are the days she forgets to eat, the days she forgets to bathe. T he experiments she does unsupervised with side effects such as: might explode.  
  
There are certain things, Lance muses, that a suitor would need to be prepared to deal with. Things he doesn't think Keith is great for. Keith is, after all, an active member of Pidge's _constantly forgetting to bathe_ club. And, now that Lance is familiar with him as more than _that asshole rival of mine from class,_ now he knows: Keith is nothing but a lucky disaster. It's a miracle that neither he, nor Pidge, have killed themselves in a fire.  
  
At any rate, Lance is pretty confident in crossing Pidge off of his list.  
  
She has mostly quieted to grumbling in annoyance when they pass Hunk in the hall.  
  
“Smell this pile of dirty laundry I found in Pidge's room,” Lance says in greeting, jostling Pidge lightly. Hunk snorts, then looks guilty for it when Pidge twists to glare at him over her shoulder. “You've been slacking on your best-friend duties and now I've gotta wash the gremlin myself.”  
  
“You absolutely do not,” Pidge interjects.  
  
Hunk holds out his arms. “I can take care of her , if you want.”  
  
“Yes,” Pidge says.  
  
Lance says, “nah, I got it. You distracted or something?”  
  
Hunk shifts his weight. Averts his eyes. All signs point to yes, Lance thinks, and yet Hunk mumbles, “no, I'm alright. Just thinking too much.”  
  
Pidge hums curiously, but Hunk does not clarify, even for her.  
  


***

  
If not Pidge, Allura?  
  
This is hard for Lance to picture. They do nothing but agitate each other, even when they don't mean to. They are constantly working themselves anxious, walking on egg-shells. Galra Keith and Altean Allura. It's no wonder – of course it would be complicated.  
  
He's fairly sure it isn't her, even before he starts watching their interactions. In a group, the princess does not give Keith any special attention. Alone, the two of them sit, rigid and tense, until one excuses themselves just to breath in another room.  
  
Lance watches it happen a dozen times over.  
  
The thirteenth time, they leave the room from opposite sides at the same time, both so eager to flee that they hardly notice the other already leaving.  
  
Shiro makes a quiet sound, half amused and half concerned. He looks like he can't quite decide who he wants to go have words with, but after a moment seems to settle on following Allura.  
  
“ I hope things settle down, soon,” Hunk says, frowning after Keith's retreat.  
  
“It'll just take time,” Pidge assures him. Her laptop is between her criss-crossed legs, and she only looks up momentarily. “It isn't like they hate each other. You know they both care.”  
  
“It's just... Rough,” Hunk says. “When you can see both sides.”  
  
Pidge is already distracted again , and only hums in response.  
  
Unbothered, Hunk turns his gaze to Lance, instead. “How many Galra do you think are only in it because they feel forced? I doubt the Blade of Marmora are the only good ones, you know?”

Apparently still listening, Pidge chimes in, “just following orders is a crap defense.”  
  
“Yeah – oh, yeah, totally. But it's so big to try to rebel against, anyhow. Big enough that it's understandable for Allura to be so apprehensive of a whole race.”  
  
Lance feigns disinterest .  
  
The truth is, he gets it. The Galra are their enemy, at what feels like a ratio of 5,000 Galra soldiers for every 1 member of the Blade of Marmora. You can't give everyone a chance with the scale so high that it's off the charts.

But Keith isn't just _anyone_. He's Keith. He burns so hot that he hurts his own teammates, he sparks and he simpers, and he is imperative to them. That's something Lance feels in his gut, something he knows at his core no matter how much they bicker. He would fall apart without Keith, the same way the team would without Shiro, or Allura, or Coran, or Pidge, or Hunk, or – God, there's no point in listing them out if it's always going to be all of them.  
  
And it is. He loves them all so absurdly, loves even Keith.  
  
So he gets it.  
  
And maybe he's starting to get what Hunk had meant before about love triangles.  
  
He knows that if he tries to verbalize anything in his head, the words will turn to mush in his mouth. His mind races a mile a minute, it always does, always has, but somehow the thoughts always fall apart when he tries to articulate them.  
  
Weird, he knows, given his amazing wit and clever comebacks.  
  
“They'll get over it,” Lance says, and the words come out breezy. He shrugs for good measure.  
  
Hunk is still watching the door.  
  


***

  
His words aren't coming out right again. Flustered, Lance snaps, “I'm gonna – you – no!”  
  
Keith leans closer, eyes narrow and crystalline. His voice is low and rough like a gravel road, and he repeats, “your ' _kick'_ was ridiculous. Moves like that throw our _entire_ balance out of whack!”  
  
Allura has long-since disengaged from their petty argument, though she and Shiro both keep shooting furtive looks in their direction. Pidge is hovering by the door, waiting patiently for their traditional after-battle shower, no matter the fight she has to endure listening to first.  
  
“Except for when it _saved_ our asses,” Lance retorts, voice louder than he means for it to be and face burning up.  
  
And Hunk, bless his poor, misguided heart, is trying to soothe them both. “I mean – what fun's being a leg if I don't get to regain our footing?”  
  
Keith's glare shoots to him, then back to Lance in an instant. Lance is exhausted, he is frustrated, and the way Keith leans towards him aggressively is making his stomach clench. “Look, Hunk's your _friend,_ so of course he's not going to just _tell_ you when you're making his life miserable.”  
  
Hunk tries, “it's really not so bad–”  
  
“– _Stop_ defending it!” Keith interrupts.  
  
Hunk's placating smile fades, and he crosses his arms. “Alright, time-out for both of you, Lance, we just need to practice those moves before you take them live, and Keith, you need to chill out, no one got hurt, everything was fine.”  
  
Keith draws back, but only physically. “What happens if you pull something like that and Hunk has to puke in the middle of a fight?”  
  
“I've been getting better–”  
  
“–That's enough,” Coran interrupts them all, voice loud and authoritative, like they so often forget he is capable of. His hand comes to rest on Lance's shoulder, and it's only this that makes Lance realize how far forward he had been leaning as well. He feels acutely aware of the tension in his muscles, in the ache all up his spine.  
  
He knows that Hunk has been defending him, trying to mediate. It is still a comfort to have Coran be wholly and completely on _his_ side. “Unfortunately, this is a battle that will sometimes need risks. The pilot of the Red Lion should understand. I wish that we all had the luxury of being able to worry about motion sickness. I really do.”  
  
This time Keith's shoulders go slack. He opens his mouth to retort, but instead just quiets, unable to argue against his own impulsiveness. His scowl does not fade, and somewhere, past the anger and the wounded pride, Lance thinks _can definitely check Coran off the list_.  
  
This thought is abstractly funny enough that he doesn't want to punch Keith out just to avoid bathing near each other.  
  
Hunk is the one to carefully break the awkward silence. “I appreciate the concern, but Coran is right. Come on, let's all cool our heads and wash up, yeah?”  
  
These times remind Lance of home. Walking down the halls to the shower room in a group is noisy and usually host to four overlapping conversations. Like taking his niece and nephew to the public pool in the Summers. Locker-rooms and cold tiles underfoot. Pidge laughing at something Hunk is saying, the sounds echoing and overlaying strangely. Shiro and Keith murmur fondly between themselves.  
  
Lance is careful to interject his way into both conversations.  
  
It's the nostalgia behind something as small as walking down the hall in a group that calms him down, more than the water. But the shower is still a comfort after a fight. He can wash away the stress, the sweat, the adrenaline. The worry and fear.  
  
His eyes drift over the partition to his left. Pidge is so short that he only sees down to her shoulder-blades, even with her at the far end of her stall. Shiro is in the stall to her other side, reaching over the partition to scrub his fingers in her lathered-up hair. (She laughs as much as she complains – playfully draws back as much as she leans into it.) They are talking Galra-tech, incomprehensible to Lance.  
  
At his right, Keith's head is dunked under the shower-head, hot water pouring down his face. The steam from his shower alone dominates the room, and surely this is why Lance feels overheated in his own lukewarm water. 

Thin, ink-black strands of hair curl against his cheeks. His shoulders are painted sunburn-pink, the nape of his neck exposed as his water-weighted hair falls and sticks to either side of his throat.  
  
“The, uh. The hot water's bad for your skin,” Lance says, stumbling over the words. He is acutely aware that Keith's skin looks fine. Smooth and pale and pretty, and colder water wouldn't do much for the imperfections it does have. Star-speck freckles and deep galaxy bruises. Lance has them, too. They all do.  
  
“Who cares?” Keith asks, and Lance has to tear his gaze back to look him in the face. Keith is bright-eyed and almost sincerely curious, as if they had never argued at all, as if he has not just caught Lance staring.  
  
Hunk chimes in from Keith's other side, staring resolutely at the wall in front of him as he washes his hair, “I always take cold showers. It makes getting out the shower into something nice instead of something miserable.”  
  
Keith's attention is drawn to Hunk, and he turns towards him to say, “that's just moving the misery to the shower itself, though.”  
  
Hunk laughs, the sound of it sincere, and so loud that it nearly drowns out the way Keith laughs too.  
  


***

  
So it isn't Shiro. Isn't Pidge or Allura. Isn't Coran.  
  
Well, the next on his list is himself.  
  
Lance tries not to let this consume his every thought. He can't imagine it being _him_ , after all. They're always fighting, even if it's kind of fun sometimes. But doesn't that mean, a voice in his head offers, that they are on each others' minds the most? Isn't bickering sometimes just flirting? Not always, not like they do, but – _isn't it?_  
  
He thinks of holding hands, not even to help or be helped. Keith crouched beside him to hear _we are a good team._ Keith's soft smile.  
  
He thinks and thinks and thinks and tries to stop himself from thinking when he is dizzied with it. Because for every giddy stupid rush of _maybe it's me_ , he thinks of Hunk's warning. Can a relationship even survive a war like this? Can their side of the war survive a relationship?  
  
He can't imagine a relationship with Keith.  
  
Not that he wants to. It's just – interesting. He's just curious.  
  
Thinking about it all one-sided doesn't answer any of his questions – so he thinks of a plan. This all started with bonding exercises, why can't it be finished with one? Honestly, he should have thought of it weeks ago.  
  
It isn't hard to convince Coran to make them do the visualization practice. It isn't one they do often, since being able to root around in each others' heads is a bit much, even for Team Voltron. Besides that, it makes it too easy to see exactly who is distracted and exactly what by, and that only causes more bickering.  
  
But Lance considers himself “in with the management,” when it comes to Coran, and all he has to do is idly comment that it's been a while.  
  
They are all seated in a circle by afternoon. (Or whatever counts as afternoon in space. Lance is pretty sure the internal clocks of the castle are set by their ideal human sleep-patterns. An unspoken kindness from Allura and Coran.)  
  
“I hate this one,” Pidge mutters, still sore over her first impression with it.  
  
“I think it's fun,” Hunk offers, both in earnest and to tease. It is unfair that it works to soothe her, but Pidge smiles and rolls her eyes. Hunk always has that way. If Lance tried to tell his jokes, he'd get slapped in the face for sure.  
  
“Just be respectful of each other's boundaries,” Shiro says, to all of them. Lance feels like he is being singled out. Guilty conscience. If he can get what he wants, they'll all be none-the-wiser. But if he's clumsy, there's sure to be a fight.  
  
Then again, a fight with Keith is nothing new. This means it will be forgotten just as quick.  
  
Coran begins describing scenery for them to visualize. A warm-up, he says, describing alien skies and waters, as if any of them have seen them.  
  
Lance sneaks a peek around their projections. They have each focused on one of his phrases, conjuring up a more relatable version. Rivers of gently tumbling ore are a babbling brook to Shiro. The crystal trunks of trees growing fruit inside their center are an ordinary forest to Keith. A downpour of sharp rocks is an earthly hail-storm to Hunk. A desert of amethyst sands and the flowers that bloom there are a rocky plane to Pidge.  
  
Coran hums, audibly disappointed in what he sees. He does not scold them, though. Lance wonders if it was disappointment in them, or if he had simply hoped to see images of home. He isn't sure which he wants to be true, and sees his own image flicker with distraction.  
  
“Now, open yourselves to your fellow paladins,” Coran instructs them. “Visualize your lions. Feel your bond to your lions. Their bonds to each other. And your bonds with your allies.”  
  
Lance closes his eyes to concentrate. This is what he wanted. He tries to obey Coran's commands himself, but he is already too caught up in his goal.  
  
They all open up so _easily_. This has to mean something good about them, as a team.  
  
Shiro's mind is the most difficult, as always, parts of it closed off even to himself. Pidge is open now, but near incomprehensible to Lance. Hunk's mind is warm and nostalgic and so familiar to Lance that he does not feel any curious draw to it.  
  
Keith's mind is on edge. Even with his guard down it feels sharp, like the jagged edges of clumsily gashed metal. It's like climbing in through a broken window, still laced with sharp glass all around. It feels like edging into ice-water.  
  
Shiro's mind is words. Pidge's mind is numbers. Hunk's mind is senses. Lance knows his own mind is pictures.  
  
Keith's mind is concepts.  
  
Anger and confusion and wanting. Pride and patience and practice. Fear and family and friends. Flying and freedom and fondness.  
  
He presses towards the last one. It isn't as rough as everywhere else. The warmth is for all of them. Even Lance. He feels his hand twitch, startled. He shouldn't be surprised. He knows he shouldn't be surprised. He's here to confirm this exact suspicion, so why is he surprised?  
  
There are pin-point draws of the heat. Shiro, vivid and bold, something familiar. The warmth towards Pidge is blurry and soft, protective and trusting in equal measure. For Lance it sparks and grows. It's like a camp-fire. Dangerous and cautious all at once.  
  
He thinks, _is_ _it_ –  
  
–and then he finds Hunk.  
  
The feelings wash over him like a wave. They are familiar and childish. Like when someone makes you laugh, _really_ laugh, and they look so pleased with themselves afterwards. Like passing someone in the hall and wanting them to see you, but refusing to see if they're looking. Like being comfortable, but at the same time hyper-aware of yourself with them. Like shoulders brushing together on the couch and not moving away. Like latching on to everything they say about you like it's gospel.  
  
It isn't a beacon of true-love. It just is what it is. Unquestionably, simply, purely, _a crush_.  
  
Keith's voice snaps him out of it, furious and loud, “Lance! _What_ are you doing?!”  
  
“Focus,” Coran begins, unaware that it isn't just a matter of Lance not concentrating hard enough.  
  
“Nothing,” Lance blurts out, feeling unlike himself for how little he wants to fight. He knew this would be a dumb fight. He was _ready_ for a dumb fight. Now he just stammers, “I – I was just – nothing!”  
  
Coran tries to say, “now, now, you need to be open to each other,” but is quickly interrupted.  
  
“He was digging around in my head!”  
  
Shiro frowns, hesitating for a moment before setting his eyes on Lance. “Is that true? Our minds need to be open, but that doesn't mean you should ignore people's personal boundaries.”  
  
“I didn't mean to,” Lance lies. No one looks convinced. He doesn't blame them.  
  
They wind up doing the invisible mazes, instead, but not until Keith has raged himself tired. Lance is partnered with Pidge, and grateful for it. Even if she does walk him into six walls as punishment.  
  


***

  
Lance wants to be a better person than he is. In a lot of ways.  
  
But right now, he feels like a crappy friend. Grilling someone on who they like is all fun and games, but rooting around in their head for the info doesn't sit well, it turns out. Not only that, but the answer leads him to another question: why was Hunk at the bottom of his list? How bad of a friend is he to have just inherently _assumed_ that it wouldn't be someone as sweet and funny as Hunk?  
  
Just because, what? Because he's fat? Like this is just inherently something that Keith wouldn't be attracted to?  
  
Something had made Lance assume it was him, and it isn't. His heart feels hollow. Like his chest holds no air, like there's nothing in there but the vast nothingness of space. Inside and out.  
  
Is that the guilt? Or something else?  
  
But there is one ray of hope. Something he can't let go of that really, truly, makes him feel like this can all be worth it. This discomfort, this vague heartache that he is adamantly denying, this guilt. There's still something he can do to soothe all of it.  
  
He can play wingman.  
  
And someday, Keith will say “Lance, my buddy, my dear friend who I cannot live without, thank you so much for hooking me up with my long-time crush, Hunk.”  
  
It's going to be _great_.  
  
So he reviews. He doesn't like to linger on something that makes him feel uncomfortable, but it's important to have his ducks in a row.  
  
Keith has a crush on Hunk. A regular old crush. (This is surreal, somehow. Like Keith is somehow on a different level than normal teenagers. Like he is somehow above things so simple.)  
  
He probably wants to smooch him or something.  
  
Looking back on things, Lance is fairly sure he doesn't need to worry about how Hunk feels. Looking back on it makes him feel dumber by the minute, honestly.  
  
So the key here, Lance surmises, is Hunk's nerves. That may be a wrench in the plan, given that he _adamantly_ told Lance just a while back that he doesn't think any of them should be hooking up.  
  
Keith, however, had not seemed nearly so opposed. Admitting openly that he has a crush, nearly encouraging Lance to figure it out.  
  
It is time, Lance decides, for the truth to come out and be faced.  
  


***

  
He gives them all time to recover. If you're going to meddle with other people's affairs, you probably should not do it successively.  
  
Lance waits until he tells a stupid joke – a day with Keith turns his head to hide his snort of laughter. He waits until they've had a fight where he _doesn't_ piss Keith off. (Even though it isn't even his fault when he does. Keith just can't handle his pro-combat-strats.) He waits until Keith is back to sitting beside him at most meals, until Keith shoots him a sort of private grimace that is of some equivalence to a fond smile.  
  
Things settle back into normal, and their fight, like all the others, smooths over.  
  
The game of the day is _Truth or Dare or Spend the Day Helping Coran Manually Update the Starmap._ Which actually doesn't sound _too_ bad to Lance, and Pidge says she's interested to see how the universe has changed over the last 10,000 years. But that's beside the point.  
  
“What's your, umm,” Hunk asks, struggling to come up with an interesting question for Keith. “Favorite... Thing?”  
  
“Knives,” Keith says.  
  
Lance groans. “You've answered 'knives' to like eight questions.”  
  
Keith looks so clueless that Lance almost believes it to be sincere. Almost. “Stop asking questions about knives, then.”  
  
“To be fair,” Hunk says, “I did kind of set that one up.”  
  
Lance does not think he would notice the way Keith brightens if he didn't know what he knows. It is small, made even smaller by the way Keith's shoulders hunch inwards contentedly. He and Hunk exchange amused smiles at the long-winded joke they are apparently telling each other over the course of the game.  
  
“Lance,” Keith says.  
  
Lance puffs his chest up in defiance. “Truth.”  
  
Keith just stares at him, for a moment so long that it is almost awkward. Then asks, “how often do you rummage around in our heads?”  
  
“I see that you are still bitter, and I accept you for who you are, my Sour Grape Friend,” Lance says.  
  
Keith turns his head as if to hide a laugh, but is only hiding his bewilderment at the nick-name. “But the answer is just that once.”  
  
“We've all been there,” Hunk says, in solidarity with Lance.  
  
“We absolutely have not,” Pidge says, and Keith nods in agreement. “Jerk.”  
  
“Raisin,” Hunk mutters. Pidge throws some alien equivalent of a penny from her pocket at him.  
  
“Keith,” Lance says.  
  
Keith resigns himself to the annoyance that is Lance. “Truth.”  
  
Better to ease into it, Lance decides. Better not to rush into _tell us who you have a crush on, he's right there, do it, do it, do it_. “What's the most romantic gesture you can think of?”  
  
“Buying me a knife,” Keith says, flatly.  
  
Hunk is muffling his laughter behind his hand. Pidge throws her head back in exasperation.  
  
“Pidge,” Keith says.  
  
“No,” Pidge says.  
  
For some reason, this works, and Keith simply nods and moves on. “Hunk,” he says instead.  
  
“Truth.”  
  
“You guys are all cowards,” Pidge says. “Or gossipy. Whichever you personally find more insulting – that's you.”  
  
“You say that as if you didn't just skip your turn,” Lance points out.  
  
For some reason Pidge stares intensely at Hunk when she argues, “you don't think it's brave to just face the rules of the game and say _no_?”  
  
He hesitates to answer for an awkward beat. “It's better to be cautious.”  
  
“High risk, high reward,” Pidge argues. Lance does not think they are talking about _Truth or Dare or_ _Spend the Day Helping Coran Manually Update the Starma_ _p_ anymore. _  
  
_ Keith frowns, and his eyes flicker to Lance for an explanation. Lance can only shrug, and so Keith interrupts them. “Alright, so truth. What are you afraid of?”  
  
Lance wants to bury his face in his hands. That is the opposite of defusing the situation.  
  
Hunk looks like he wants to run, eyes darting to the door, then his feet and back. “Uh. Most things?”  
  
“Name one,” Keith offers, like a meeting half-way.  
  
Hunk doesn't hesitate. “Fallout,” he says, then before anyone can question this further, rushes out, “Lance!”  
  
Startled and self conscious, Lance says, “dare?”  
  
“–There's nothing you can't fix, though,” Keith interjects, still stuck on the other subject like it was a debate.  
  
Hunks eyes meet Keith's, then turn to Lance helplessly. With his eyes, Lance tries to convey emotional and moral support, and also a complete lack of willingness to take any supportive actions or speak.  
  
“Like, social fallout,” Hunk murmurs with great discomfort.  
  
“But you're the nicest person here,” Keith points out, increasingly baffled.  
  
“You _are_ the nice one,” Pidge agrees.  
  
Lance nods along sagely. “Gotta go with your gut.”  
  
A miss-step. Hunk's brow furrows and he says, defensively, “my gut says _oh no absolutely not.”  
  
_ Lance wants to be say something cool, something encouraging and clever. But the words are ash when they reach his mouth, mixing up into a meaningless mess the second they try to arrange themselves in his mouth.  
  
Pidge speaks softly, delicately shattering the illusions of the conversation, “that's not true. Your gut reaction is what it is. Your second reaction is fear.”  
  
Shattering them to everyone except Keith, who gives Lance another _please explain_ _why this is a fight now_ look. Lance is beginning to regret wanting to play wingman. Pidge is better at it, Keith is an idiot, and Hunk is going to have a break down.  
  
But hey. Team bonding, right?  
  
“Dare,” Lance says again, wanting to rescue Hunk from the situation that he may or may not have been responsible for to begin with.  
  
“Confess,” Hunk snaps, entirely ungrateful. “To the person you like.”  
  
Lance winces, and stops himself from pointing out that this dare is a truth in disguise.  
  
“He's already hit on Allura like a dozen times,” Keith points out, oblivious.  
  
For a moment Lance feels unified with Pidge and Hunk again, as the three of them turn to look at Keith. Lance is not sure what his own expression reads. He is swallowing back terror, but at the same time, cannot entirely blame Keith for this one. Pidge and Hunk both just look equal parts sympathetic and disbelieving.  
  
  
The unity is broken quickly; Hunk is still mad, and just rolls with the misconception. “Right. You already _know_ that she'll just shut you down. But hey, be brave.”  
  
“But _you_ don't know,” Lance groans. He is a terrible wingman. He prays that God will forgive his sins. He knows that is likely to happen much sooner than Hunk and his incredible grudge-holding-abilities.  
  
“He knows because he tried,” Pidge points out, “so that's a moot point. Not only that, he tried like a dozen times and there hasn't been fallout. He and Allura are close as ever.”  
  
“Why is this a fight?” Keith asks, his own voice breaking with tension. Conflict is conflict, whether he understands it or not, and he is always ready to join. “What is with you two today?”  
  
“You're cute,” Lance blurts out, and Keith's rigidity is startled out of him. All he does is blink owlishly, so completely caught off guard that he does not know how to react. “So that's – my confession. The dare. You're cute and I'm kind of into you but mostly I'm just getting over that, which isn't that big a deal, because I'm _mature._ ”  
  
“Wow,” Pidge says, and Lance is not sure if it in response to everything he has said or just the 'mature' part.  
  
“Uh,” Hunk manages.  
  
Keith swallows. “Thank... You?”  
  
“You're welcome,” Lance snaps, and it really does not sting so badly as he had thought. “Hunk! Dare!”  
  
“That's not how it works,” Hunk points out, already looking resigned to what he knows is coming.  
  
“Confess! Face your fears! Win your man!”  
  
The moment is catching up with Keith, and an understanding of what is coming. His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide as he glances between the two of them with uncertainty.  
  
The fight is gone from Hunk in the face of Lance's amazing mood-changing social skills. He is quiet, staring at the floor in discomfort. He glances up to Keith once, then quickly back down. “I... Also think you're cute. Keith. Uh... And smart. And cool. And... Uh... That's all.”  
  
“Oh,” Keith says, still red-faced. He looks from Pidge to Lance, clearly wishing they were not present. Lance gives him a thumbs up, then dodges another space penny from Pidge's pocket. When he looks back to Hunk it is with a softness. “Do you want to get out of here?”  
  
Hunk stands up with a resignation, not even bothering to glare at Pidge and Lance. You know it's a bad day when Hunk cannot even keep up his spite. In all fairness, Lance does not need to see his face to feel like shit. This did not at all go as smoothly as he had hoped.  
  
Hunk looks startled when Keith steps up beside him, one hand touching his arm gently.  
  
“Oh, you... You're coming?” Hunk asks.  
  
Keith bows his head, letting out a quiet laugh. “Yeah.”  
  
The door slides shut behind them.  
  
All is well that ends well, Lance would like to say, but knows that regardless of the outcome, he did not do the right thing. At least he has a partner in crime.  
  
He looks at Pidge, hoping for some quiet comfort.  
  
He does not expect her to be looking quite so smug, grinning to herself as she cleans her glasses. “That's about how I expected this to go,” she says, standing up. She pats Lance on the shoulder. “Good work, you reliable idiot.”  
  


***

The talk must have gone well.  
  
Despite what Pidge had said, or possibly planned because she is crazy, Lance thinks this is a sign that he should not have meddled at all. That all it took was the two of them sneaking off together and talking, and this alleviated Hunk's fears more than anyone else could have.  
  
They are inconspicuous, or they try to be.  
  
Lance catches them kissing outside of Keith's room. It's a soft thing, Keith with his back comfortably against the wall and Hunk holding him there with his hands gentle at his hips.  
  
They look guilty when they spot him. Embarrassed and shy and – Keith's indignance does not change that he won't meet Lance's eyes.  
  
Lance gives them as aggressive a thumbs up as he can.  
  
The sympathetic curve to Hunk's smile is probably what hurts the most, which Lance thinks means he is making better progress than expected.  
  
Pidge catches them in the work room. Hunk is working with – something that Lance doesn't understand, even when Pidge explains it to him for the third time. Electronics. Nuts and bolts. That sort of thing. He is fiddling with it as he sits on the ground, Keith settled comfortably, sitting between his legs.  
  
They both simply wave to her, thinking nothing of it. Keith is comfortable. Hunk is busy with his work.  
There is an awkwardness to hearing their concern for each other over the comms in combat. But there is an inspiration to it, too. Something shiny and perfect that makes Lance feel less afraid. Something that, he is sure, makes Hunk feel less afraid. Even Keith.  
  
His best friend and his stupid idiot rival. They are teenagers in love and they are going to save the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> it's a bad idea, it's a bad idea, it's such a bad idea and i'm afraid, but i love you


End file.
